Much research has evidently gone into this production, the second in a projected trilogy on mental health by the two-man troupe Ridiculusmus. The first show, The Eradication of Schizophrenia in Western Lapland, dealt with the possibility of communal dialogue. This one looks at treatments for post-traumatic stress disorder. While the subject is timely and fascinating, however, I thought it had been aired rather than genuinely explored.
Ridiculusmus had its origins in 1992, in dadaist comedy, and elements of that remain in this show. We are confronted by Zach, a Welsh squaddie who, after serving in Iraq, squats inside a cardboard box in his Port Talbot home. Offstage, we hear the voice of his aggrieved wife, Carol. But the bulk of the 60-minute action is concerned with the arrival of Zach’s friend Ieuan, a fellow soldier who has been through therapy and who has learned that ecstasy (MDMA) is being used as a treatment for post-combat stress. A security chain on the door means Ieuan is denied access to his mate, but he manages to transmit the drug to Zach, who seems briefly restored to what passes for normality.
The show’s oddest feature is that the actors are only partially visible: we only ever see the legs of David Woods as the boxed-in Zach and the hands of Jon Haynes, who doubles as Ieuan and Carol. This gives the evening an elliptical Beckettian quality and prompts some ingenious physical comedy: at one point, Ieuan has to struggle to place the capsule in an envelope and pass it to Zach by means of an overhead pulley. But the basic image of a man in a box has to work overtime and a lot of questions are raised without being fully addressed. I got the point that stress may result from military inaction as well as action, but I learned little about the big issues: especially about the therapeutic efficacy of ecstasy, the difficulty of sanctioning it officially and the question of whether it is best administered as part of a controlled experiment.
You have to admire the dedication of Woods and Haynes, who are also the writers and directors, in acting with legs, hands and voice alone. Some sharp points are also made through comedy, as when Carol voices the stigma attaching to drugs by querulously asking: “How many celebrities are in rehab because they’ve taken bloody ecstasy?” But the show raises more questions about theatrical form than about the curative power of chemical substances. As Gertrude said to Polonius: “More matter with less art.”
• At Battersea Arts Centre, London, until 30 January. Box office: 020-7223 2223.
